


Ghosts

by TheGeekyLibrarian



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGeekyLibrarian/pseuds/TheGeekyLibrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tywin Lannister meets his wife again in the afterlife, but instead of a happy reunion his wife confronts him about how he treated their children after her death, and helped shape them all into what they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts

The Rock looks and feels like it always has, though he does not understand how he comes to be there. The last thing he remembers is closing his eyes in the darkness of King's Landing... He had not been sure what to expect, in fact, he hadn't really expected anything except more darkness and oblivion. But he got Casterly Rock, its walls bathed in sunlight, a swift wind blowing in from the sea, bringing the scent of saltwater and spices with it. He is home, and he knows it with every fiber of his being.

But there is something a little strange about the place, something that creeps into the edges of his consciousness; because although it is without a doubt Casterly Rock, it looks, or rather feels different. It's as if the castle, or the world itself is somewhat translucent, firm to the touch but blurry, fading around the edges. He doesn't know why, and to his own surprise it does not alarm him. His mind accepts that this world is what it is, and that for all its similarities, it is not the same world he left behind. He starts to walk, wondering if there is something for him here, or if it this is his fate, to roam this shadow world forever, aimless and alone.

The heavy wooden doors that separate castle from courtyard open for him without a sound. The entrance hall is abandoned, and his steps echo, but the absence of people does not feel unnatural like it once did. He feels as if he could create the people of the Rock if he wanted to, make them appear precisely as he wishes them to. But there is only one person, one woman, he truly wishes to see, and he knows in the same instance that he cannot make her appear.

He wanders aimlessly through the rooms, and sometimes his memories of the place play out before him, the people in them appearing as ghosts and shadows. As he walks through the Great Hall he sees his brothers, Tygett and Kevan, play at swords, while a younger version of himself eyes them intently from a corner. Tywin stands watching the scene unfold, when Tygett disarms Kevan with a flourish of his sword, but the elder of the two refuses to give up the fight, and the whole thing ends as a friendly scuffle, causing young Tywin to smile broadly from the corner. He smiled easier then. The scene fades, and he keeps walking. His journey continues, and the memories with it.

As he passes the study he sees the ghost of his father, and his younger self, arguing as they often did. He sees himself in the library, playing cyvasse with Kevan, and Genna climbing into his lap, intent to take over his game. In the distance he hears the shouts of his own children. Jaime and Cersei were never the quiet sort...

The door would seem plain and unremarkable to anyone else, heavy light-colored wood with hinges and handle of wrought iron, but the sight of it is enough to stop him in his tracks. For a brief moment panic strikes him like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky. He had not meant to come here. But just as he is about to turn, and follow his impulse to get as far away from that door as possible, he knows that he cannot run. He may be a ghost in his own keep, but the images that have haunted him in the long years of his life alone took place in the room beyond that door. Somehow he knows that if there is anything left of Joanna in this place, that room is where he will find her.

His hand trembles as he reaches for the handle, but for the first time he does not bother to try and conceal it. There is no one there to see him, after all.

He expects darkness, and the scent of iron, the scent of blood...and he expects to see what he saw the night his wife died, almost three decades previous. He stands in the doorway to what was once their bedchamber, a room that in the true Casterly Rock was sealed shut shortly after Joanna Lannister's death, and never spoken of again...at least not within earshot of him. But here, in this ghostly incarnation, the room still exists as it was when he was a younger man. The sunlight streams through the open windows, a soft breeze rustles the curtains, and there is no trace of death, much to his surprise. He takes a few steps into the room, looking around in wonder.

Then he sees her, standing with her back to him in front of an open window, looking out across the water. She is a queen among women, crowned by the rays of the midday sun, and in that moment he feels as if his heart is about to leap from his chest out of pure joy.

"Joanna."

Her name feels almost foreign on his lips, so long has it been since he spoke it out loud.

When she turns towards the sound, he wants her to smile. He needs her to smile, he realizes, but his wife does not. Fury flashes in her eyes, and she strides towards him raising her arm to strike as she goes. Before he fully understands what is happening, she lands a blow to his face, and he stumbles backwards in surprise, bringing an arm up to shield himself from her second and third strike.

"How could you do this?!?"

She retreats, taking two steps back, and waits for him to recover, still glaring at him with a fierceness he had quite forgotten she possessed.

"What...what exactly is it that I have done?" He finally manages, lowering his arm and surveying his wife with shock and suspicion.

"I gave you three children, three wonderful children, as much lions as you or me, and you squandered them all... You took all they were and used it against them, until they cowered in your shadow, crumbling under the burden you placed on their shoulders."

Joanna's voice breaks, and there are tears brimming in her eyes. He blinks in surprise at her accusation, but then his own ager flares, and he takes a step towards her, the yellow flecks in his eyes burning.

"How dare you? I loved my children, I did everything in my power for them..."

His voice is low, silky and deceptively calm. Whenever he uses it in council, the room usually falls silent. But the voice who has sent men desperately seeking shelter is met with a snort and a bark of cruel laughter from his wife.

"You made your only daughter prisoner in a gilded cage, put your firstborn son on a pedestal he was never fit for, then tore him down when he could not live up to your expectations, and made your second son a kinslayer... what love is there in that?"

"Cersei wanted to be queen," he began to argue, struggling to keep his voice calm.

"Jaime took the vows of the Kingsguard against my wishes..." He hesitated now, not sure what reasoning to give for his treatment of his youngest son, now that he stood face to face with the boy's mother again.

"Cersei wanted Rhaegar," Joanna began easily.

"Because you told her she could have him. You put the idea of queenship into her head, and then, after Aerys refused, and Rhaegar died, you married her off to that swine Robert Baratheon after you'd put the crown on him!"

"And so what if I did?" He demanded.

"So what if I made a king to be my daughter's husband, after Aerys spat that I was no more than his servant, and after that fool Rhaegar ran off with the Stark girl. My daughter wanted a crown, so I gave her one..."

"You married her off to a rake, you let your only daughter be defiled by a violent drunkard for a title!" Joanna spat furiously, gesturing in the air as she spoke.

"I suppose you would rather I'd sent her to Dorne, right into the hands of the Martells. For that was what you intended, was it not...?"

"It was." She admitted, without any trace of the shame he had thought to provoke.

"And perhaps, had you followed that wish, Cersei would have been spared the fear and paranoia that coat the walls in the Red Keep. Perhaps she would have been happy in Dorne...we'll never know now, will we?"

"And Jaime?" He asked, his voice strained.

"What crimes did I commit against my oldest son? My heir, who was stolen from me by the Mad King...?"

Joanna's rage seemed to have faded a little, and she looked up at her husband, her eyes filled with sadness.

"Is that what you think happened?" She asked.

Her voice sounded weary, as if she still shouldered burdens all her own, and there was something in her tone that caused him to bite back his reply. Instead, he turned to face his wife, who had sunk down onto the edge of the bed and was not looking at him. He was silent for a few moments. It was as if there had been a change in the air; rage had been replaced with sadness, and joy tempered by suspicion. And Tywin realized, to his horror, that Joanna knew about the shame two of his children had brought on the family, and each other. He wondered briefly how long she had known.

"Isn't it what happened?" He asked, still not able, or willing to admit anything.

Joanna turned her face towards him, but her eyes were cast down, studying the bottom hem of her gown. He wondered if it was because his wife did not have the courage to look at him, but decided that it could not be. She was never fearful of him in life, and their arguments could sometimes shake the keep to its very foundations. No, his wife would be no more frightened of him in death than she was in life. Just as he concludes this, Joanna looks up at him, and he is reminded how much her eyes sometimes resemble wildfire. The thought had occurred to him more than once that the resemblance could be part of the reason why Aerys had been so obsessed with having her for his own.

"After a fashion." Joanna begins matter-of-factly.

"But you give Aerys too much credit... we both know he was not half as clever as he thought."

"But who other than Aerys would have anything to gain by Jaime joining the Kingsguard?"

He eyes Joanna, already dreading what she is going to say, but he never the less waits for her to say it. Her face is blank, her voice the same sad tone, when she says:

"Our daughter would."

The words sting, even if he half expected them, and he closes his eyes for a long moment, as if the words alone are a terrible judgment.

"Cersei?" His voice is questioning, as if he wants to make sure that Joanna isn't speaking of someone else.

Joanna nods, and he is finally able to see the puzzle as it is, all the pieces laid out before him. And it is only then that he begins to realize what a fool he has been.

"You planned to marry Jaime to Lysa Tully, which would send Jaime to the Riverlands while Cersei remained in King's Landing. And our clever girl could not bear to be parted from her dear brother..." Joanna speaks his thoughts with something akin to distaste in her voice, before it turns accusing once again.

"How could you not see what was happening, and under your very nose...?"

She rose, stepping away from him and gesturing aimlessly in the air in front of her; there was a desperation in her voice, but it seemed it was no longer directed at him. Then, suddenly, her hands stilled, and she shook her head, saying:

"No, this is my fault... I should have told you, before... But they were children, and I thought..."

He stood silently watching his wife, and it struck him how small and frail she seemed then, with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. For a few moments he simply stood there, watching how her hair coiled and twisted around the pins set there to secure it. Then, he slowly walked over and pulled her to him, enveloping her with his own arms.

"I knew..." he admits, almost whispering the words into her hair.

"I suspected, even then. And later...I knew. But, I couldn't expose them, the shame of it would turn our name to ashes, and I didn't know how to..."

He does not finish the sentence, and he's not even sure what he meant to say. He knows now that he should never have allowed what was between Cersei and Jaime, it was folly. But things had been different then, when he was alive. In death, everything seemed cleaner, and simpler.

"I never thought Cersei would persuade her brother of something so foolish. She must have realized I would consider it a slight."

"That's where you're wrong, my lord. None of your children ever truly knew you. They could never understand what you wanted from them, and Jaime... he tried so hard to please you. He tried so hard to be all you wanted him to be, but he was tied by other vows than those of a son to his father, and he wanted to keep those as well."

Her words made sense now, here in this world. But the real world was different, there his wife had been stolen from him by the gods, and his son and heir by a mad king.

"There was no one else, Joanna. Jaime and Cersei were all I had left after you...what else could I have done?"

Before he could react, Joanna had broken free from his embrace, and turned on him. As he straightened, he saw the fury return to her face, and felt the burn of her flattened hand across his cheek.

"It seems your memory is slipping, my lord." She began, her voice turned to ice in an instant.

"If _my_ memory serves, I gave you three children."

"And the last one saw fit to repay you by spilling your life blood! He murdered his own mother, my wife! He is no son of mine."

His voice rose, his own anger awakened, and the images of his wife dying all those years ago flashing before his eyes, without him being able to stop them.

"I died _for_ him! What kind of mother do you think I am?!? Do you think that I treasured my life so dearly that I would sacrifice my own son to keep it?" Joanna's voice rose to match his, her face a cold mask of anger.

"I would have!" He almost shouted, and Joanna froze at the words. His voice faltered a little, but he continued:

"Gods help me, I would have... I don't know how many times I've wished that I could have."

"Tyrion has been a slave to that wish his whole life! And look where it brought you both in the end..." Joanna looked away, biting her lip and shaking her head in disbelief.

"You are the only man I have ever known who could drive his own child to murder."

"He stole from me." Her husband managed, through gritted teeth. He seemed to be struggling to get the words out, as if something was choking him from the inside.

"He stole my wife, my _partner_ , my...everything; the one I would do anything for. How could I love the spiteful little creature after that?"

Joanna watched her husband for a moment, before seemingly making a decision and approaching him. She placed both hands on his chest, fanning them out until they rested on his shoulders.

"Did you never consider that he, and his siblings, held what was left of her whom you loved so fiercely? For a man so concerned with his legacy, you did a poor job of honoring mine..."

He straightened at the mention of his legacy, and for the first time he looked as though he could hit her. But Joanna did not flinch, did not raise her voice, simply fixed him with a stare as cold and hard as his own.

"Those children were yours to keep when I no longer could. I knew a loving husband, a capable ruler...I thought I left them in good hands. You will never know how ashamed I felt when I realized I was wrong."

He opened his mouth to protest, but the words froze on his tongue when he saw Joanna lower her eyes and look away. When she looked back at him, she was blinking away tears, and her hands slipped from his shoulders.

"It's too late now..." Her voice is no more than a whisper in his ears, and he grabs for her, desperately, determined to not let her slip through his fingers once again. And just as he does she wraps her arms around him, fiercely, and her silent tears soak into the fabric at his shoulder.

"You've doomed them all...all our sweet children." She whispers, defeated. Her rage has turned to endless sorrow, and she clings to him like he is the only one left in the world.

"Forgive me." He whispers into her hair, wrapping both arms securely around her.

"I did not know better."

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the asoiafkinkmeme that I now cannot find for the life of me - it was a few rounds ago, maybe round 17. It went something like this: 
> 
> Tywin and Joanna meet again in the afterlife, but instead of a nice, fluffy reunion, Joanna is pissed because of how Tywin treated their kids, and tells him as much. 
> 
> (Apparently I have a thing for writing angry Joanna lashing out at Tywin.)


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